CSi:NY Valuables
by A Rhea King
Summary: While processing a multiple shooting in the Hamptons, a gunman shoots NY CSI Lindsay and takes Danny hostage. A Secret Service agent arrives asking questions, forcing Mac to pit wits against him, while trying to save his CSI.
1. Chapter 1

**Valuables**

By

A. Rhea King

Chapter 1

Gunfire exploded everywhere. A woman was hit and screamed as she went down. The defenders, dressed like house servants, continued firing back at their attacker – one man armed to the teeth like Rambo and twice as deadly. Bullets hit hanging pictures and expensive sculptures, showering the defenders with razor sharp shrapnel. A graying man and teenager made their way behind the defender's defense line to the stairs. The girl was unarmed and covered with blood. The man held a metal case in one hand and fired back at the assailant with a military issue semi-automatic pistol. When he ran out of bullets, he pulled her onto the stairs, out of harms way. From this position he could see that the defenders were loosing and quickly. He turned to the girl, pressing the handle of the case into her hand.

"Upstairs. Now."

"No." She shook her head. "I'm not running. I won't—"

He smiled lovingly at her, laying his hands on her cheeks. "Go, Princess. Run!"

She hesitated and then dashed up the stairs with the case. The man picked up a rifle from a fallen defender near him, a handful of shells, and joined the rest of the defenders in a losing battle.

The girl turned right and sprinted to the last bedroom, flicking on the light as she ran in. She stopped at a steel door with a plate beside it that had a red light lit at the top. She placed her hand on the plate and a turquoise light scanned her shaking palm. There was an 'error' beep and then the red light came back on. She muttered in her native tongue, pulled her hand back, and pushed it down again. The same thing happened. She froze, listening. There was no gunfire. She looked over her shoulder, staring into the hallway. A board down the hall creaked. She turned back to the plate, lifted her hand, and pressed it down firmly. A green light replaced the red one. She grabbed the door handle and pulled open the steel door, slipping into the room behind it. She turned, staring out into the hall as she pulled it closed. The door clicked shut, the only sound in the now silent mansion nestled in the Hamptons.

* * *

Night was falling quickly over New York City and its boroughs, as if fleeing from the CSI vehicle cruising through the Hamptons.

This area was old, with houses that had seen generations of the rich and powerful. Some of the behemoth domiciles were hidden behind artfully trimmed shrubbery, some sat like kings on thrones for the world to worship. Here homeowners were unconcerned with conservation and large electric bills, and the houses were lit up in the twilight of the day. CSI Danny Messner leaned over the steering wheel as he drove past one of the visible homes.

In the passenger seat beside him, Lindsay was entering phone numbers into her new slide phone. Strung on her lap, the floor and dash, was the paperwork and accessories for the small phone. She looked up as the vehicle began drifting across the center line toward the curb.

"Danny, road," Lindsay reminded him.

He looked back at the road, but his eyes were drawn to another expensive, prodigious mansion.

"Danny! Car!" Lindsay cried.

He looked ahead and quickly pulled on the wheel to avoid the oncoming car.

"Don't you ever come out here?" she asked.

He glanced at her. She was fiddling with her phone, going through the menus, personalizing settings.

"You haven't stopped playing with that since we left the station."

"I just got it."

"Just got it?"

"My other one was broken Friday. You remember."

"I do?" Danny thought for a moment. "Naw. I don't remember. What happened to it?"

She looked up at him, smiling. "You have the shortest _man_ memory of any _one_ I know."

"That's cold."

She chuckled.

"We should probably go where the red and blue lights are." He motioned ahead.

She looked up, watching the lights as he slowed and turned into a driveway. Neither noticed that this mansion wasn't lit up like the others around it. The iron gates that would have normally blocked their path had been bent back by something much stronger.

"We'll have to come back and look at the gates," she commented as they passed.

"You think the gate will tell us who committed a multiple murder?"

She turned her head and found him wearing a mischievous grin.

"I'm stuck with you all night, aren't I?"

He laughed. "Is it so bad?"

"More than normal tonight."

He laughed harder.

Danny parked behind a police car. The CSI climbed out, grabbed their field kits, and headed up the steps. Two police officers stood outside the door with a robust dark skinned woman. She was frantic and spoke in a foreign language that was broken by an occasional English word.

Flack came out of the house with a notepad in hand. He glanced at the woman when she tried talking to him but kept walking. He met the two in the middle of the steps.

"Either of you know what language she's speaking?" Flack asked.

"It's not French," Lindsay answered. "What little I know, I can tell that much."

"Or Spanish," Danny added.

"Or Italian, Japanese, German, Swedish, Portuguese, or Russian."

"You speak all of these?" Lindsay asked.

"No. Officer Jacobs does." Flack motioned to the officer standing with the woman. "He said her language isn't even close. Said it sounds real familiar, he's heard it somewhere before, but he can't put his finger on it.

"So she hasn't told us anything?"

"Some. She knows a little English. What we gathered is she came back from somewhere and found the house a mess. 911 could barely get that much."

Lindsay watched the woman try going back inside, but one of the officers stopped her. She started talking louder, pointing into the house.

"She really wants back in," Lindsay observed. "Any idea why?"

"We _think_ she might work here. She has a green card, work visa, and driver's license. We don't have the homeowner's name yet. I'm going to take her to the station and see if I can find someone who understands her. This looks like a mob hit, but too soon to tell, I guess."

"Just a little," Danny said.

Flack looked at him and Danny plastered an ornery grin on his lips.

"He's in one of his ten hours of sleep moods," Lindsay explained.

Flack nodded. "Glad I'm not stuck with you. I'd have ta kill ya."

"At a murder scene? That's not very creative!"

Flack chuckled. "I feel for ya, Lindsay."

"You're feeling Lindsay? Isn't that against regulations? Don!"

"Danny!" She slugged his arm.

The three chuckled, trying to keep it stifled. This really wasn't the place for this kind of humor.

"I'm going," Flack told them, "before Danny gets me in trouble."

"You're leaving me alone with Lindsay?" Danny ribbed, "She might bite."

"Then I _really_ don't want to be here." Flack turned and jogged up the stairs to the woman. He began explaining what was happening as he led her toward his car, not that she understood a word he was saying.

Danny and Lindsay walked to the door and stopped, staring at the blood and bodies.

"You CSI get all the fun jobs," Officer Jacobs joked.

"You're our babysitters tonight?" Danny asked as he sat his kit down and pulled out paper booties.

"Looks that way."

"Order us some pizza. Lotsa pepperoni."

"I'll think about it."

"What kinda babysitter are ya?"

"The kind that makes you get your own coffee."

Danny chuckled. "You had younger siblings, didn't you?"

"Five younger, four older."

Danny picked his flashlight out from the kit and switched it on. He gave Officer Jacobs a narrow eyed look.

"If you hear my girlish scream, send in Alice. The dead have come back to life." Danny picked up his kit and headed inside.

Officer Jacobs looked at Lindsay. "He been on his meds long?"

She hopped a couple times as she pulled on a bootie, and then picked up her kit.

"Sadly, he hasn't had any meds or coffee. Fear for you lives." She followed Danny inside, smiling when she heard the officers chuckle.

* * *

Detective Mac Taylor was ready to call it a night as he typed the closing paragraph to a case – the evidence conclusive pointed to a woman killing her boyfriend to save her marriage. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him look away from the computer monitor. A man in a black suit was talking to a lab tech in the hall. The lab tech turned and pointed right at Mac. The suit didn't look at him; he said something else to the lab tech and turned toward Mac's office. Mac minimized the case window, watching the suit enter.

"Detective Mac Taylor?" he asked.

Mac nodded. "I am."

The man produced an identification wallet, revealing he was Special Agent Tom Cusack of the Secret Service. That piqued Mac's interest.

"Working kinda late tonight, aren't you?" Mac asked with a slight smile.

Agent Cusack smiled without answering. Mac already didn't like this guy – he was evading a simple conversational question.

"You have two CSI working a crime scene at 14283 Rhianna Drive in the Hamptons. Tell me about that crime scene."

Danny and Lindsay were there and hadn't reported anything yet. Not that the conversation so far had led Mac to be willing to cooperate.

"It isn't a crime scene, yet, and how did you learn about it?"

Cusack evaded Mac's question. "It's a multiple shooting. What else could it be?"

"Until I hear back from my CSI, it's a location of interest."

Agent Cusack offered a fake, plastic smile as he sat down in a chair in front of Mac's desk. He was settling in for a long conversation, to Mac's dismay.

"For the sake of argument, let's pretend it's a crime scene. What do you know so far?"

"Why is the Secret Service interested in this alleged crime scene in the Hamptons? Who lived at the residence?"

"That's need to know, and at this time, Detective, we have decided you don't need to know."

That pushed every button Mac had and pissed him off! Clearly Agent Cusack wasn't taking over the scene – yet – but he wasn't showing any signs of helping either; which meant he was only going to get in the way and slow Mac's CSI down.

"Come back with a court order if you want me to release further information to you," Mac told him.

Agent Cusack stood. "I'll have one sent over. In the mean time, I'll have a look around your lab. Make sure everything is in order."

"Stay out of the chem lab. They're testing meth equipment. I'd hate for you to blow up my lab techs making sure things were in order."

"Duly noted." Agent Cusack left the office, pulling his cell phone out.

Mac hoped Adam wasn't playing his music at a deafening volume, or that Tina, his fingerprint genius, hadn't decided to wear her bikini under her lab coat again.

In the mean time, Mac made a phone call of his own. "Danny, I need you two to pick up the pace. We have the Secret Service asking questions about your crime scene. No." Mac looked out into the hall, right into Agent Cusack's eyes. "He didn't tell me _why_ the Secret Service is interested; just get as much evidence as you can."

Mac hung up his phone and didn't look away until Agent Cusack turned.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Moving her field kit up one step at a time, Lindsay dusted and removed prints along the stair banister. She kept glancing up at the flag hanging over the foyer, trying to decide something about it. At the top of the stairs, she stopped to stare at it. It was red with a white square in the upper left corner. Inside the square was a red cross like the Red Cross emblem.

Danny walked into the foyer below her. He stacked six more weapons on a pile that was already being amassed near the door.

"Lindsay?" Danny called, looking into the parlor off the foyer.

She pulled her Maglite from its case and shined it in his eyes when he turned.

He turned his head away, crying, "Lindsay!"

She giggled, lowering the light. He smiled up at her.

"You stole my french fries. You deserved that. Hey, what do you make of this flag?"

He looked up, and then shook his head.

"Hard to say. Get a picture while you're up there. Flack 'n' Mac called, and…"

She giggled, making him smile. "Flack 'n' Mac, huh?"

Danny laughed. "That was bad, wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"Flack said they still don't know what language the lady's talking, but through some charades and her little English, they've determined that she's the cook and there's supposed to be a young girl here. He wasn't sure how young, but he thinks younger than the twenty-something I found in the kitchen."

"A teenager?"

"He just said—"

"A child?"

"I dunno. He just—"

"A baby?"

"I don't know. He just said—"

Lindsay smirked. "Geeze, Danny! Did you get your CSI badge from the bottom of a cereal box?"

Danny smirked. "You're not about to let the fry stealing go, are you?"

"Nope!" She crossed her arms. "What did Mac say?"

"Thank you! He _said_ that the Secret Service has taken an interest in this case."

She dropped her arms, growing serious. "Why? Who lived here?"

"The agent wouldn't say, but Mac wants us to collect evidence as fast as we can in case they decide to move in."

"Was that all?"

"Yeah." Danny didn't move.

"You're sure that's all?"

"Yeah." But he still didn't move.

She laughed. "So if you're going to go, go already!"

He walked away laughing. Shaking her head, Lindsay headed down the hallway to her right, stopping to process each room. She stopped outside the room at the end of the hall, the only one with a light on, but stared at the wall. She turned, shining her light back down the hall. The beam barely reached the opposite wall. She turned back.

"This hall is shorter?" she asked herself. "There must be a massive closet back there."

She heard something behind the linen closet door to her left and shined her light on it. Lindsay tried the door handle, but it wouldn't budge.

She entered the room and took a visual inventory first. Like the other rooms, this one had valuables sitting out that were untouched – ruling out robbery. Judging from the jewelry on the dresser, she guessed this was a man's room. Her eyes stopped at the steel door with a plate beside it. At the top of the plate were a green and red light, the latter which was currently lit. Lindsay walked over to the plate, setting her kit at her feet. There was an outline of a hand on the plate, so she pushed her gloved hand down on it. A turquoise light scanned her hand, there was an 'error' beep, and the red light lit up again.

She turned her attention to the door. Slowly she ran her flashlight along the edge of the door to the top and started across. She stopped on a dark tinted dome at the top of the door. She flashed her flashlight across the tinted dome and the light reflected off metal, presumably a camera inside. She took two steps back, realizing this was a panic room she'd stumbled on and perhaps there were one or more survivors inside.

A board creaked behind her and she spun, her hand going to her sidearm. There was nothing but an empty dark hall beyond the door. She turned back to the panic room entrance. Her hand moved to her badge and she pulled it off her belt, aiming it at the camera. She waited, but nothing happened.

She put her badge back on her belt and returned to the bioscanner to start printing it. She started unscrewing the lid of her fingerprint dust when she heard the locks on the door click. 

The door swung open to reveal a terrified teenager. The girl was dark skinned with a mass of black full-bodied black hair. Her long bangs hung down in her eyes that shined bright like newly formed obsidian. The only light on in the room behind her was a very faint, flickering blue light so Lindsay couldn't see the room beyond, but she sensed the room was very large. The teenager's tank top and lounge pants were stained with dried blood. She held the door handle with both hands, and Lindsay suspected that if she made one wrong move, that door would be slammed in her face and it would take someone a very long time convincing the girl to open it again.

"Hi," Lindsay said, smiling. "I'm Lindsay."

"Is everyone dead?" the teenager asked. Lindsay heard an accent in the girl's voice, but she couldn't place it. It was somewhere between British and Hawaiian and sounded very strange to Lindsay's ears.

"Yeah. Are you hurt? You have a lot of—"

"No," the girl sharply answered.

"This has been a helluva night, hasn't it?"

The teenager didn't answer.

"I know what you must feel like. Why don't you come out here and we can talk?"

The teenager's stare turned into a dark glare. "You have no idea what I feel like."

Lindsay heard a board creak behind her and turned. She stared at the man standing in the door of the bedroom with a gun aimed at her.

"Tell her to come out," the man ordered. His accent was identical to the teenager's.

Lindsay slowly moved around, putting herself between the girl and the man.

"Honey, go back in the panic room. Close the door," Lindsay ordered the girl

"That was stupid," the gunman told Lindsay and fired.

The bullet hit Lindsay, throwing her back through the door. As she fell, her blood and the fingerprint dust sprayed outside the door. The teenager looked into the man's eyes and then he rushed toward the door. She yanked back on the door, snapping it shut before he could reach it.

* * *

Downstairs the policemen and Danny looked up at the sound of the gunshot.

"LINDSAY!?" Danny yelled.

He dropped what he was doing and ran for the stairs. He drew his sidearm as he bound up the stairs two at a time.

"LINDSAY!" Danny screamed.

The officers fell in behind him and the three men reached the top of the stairs at the same time. The officers turned off left, Danny went right. He stopped at each room, searching every possible hiding place, as he called her name. Danny reached the last room, the only one with a light on. He saw her kit sitting next to a door and a fine spray of blood and fingerprint dust outside the door.

"Linds… You in here?" Danny called as he slowly entered the room.

He glanced at the bedroom door that was flush against the wall. His eyes moved to the closet door and then the solid panic room door.

"Lind_say_! Answer me!"

Danny felt the cold, solid steel of the gunman's pistol against his skull before the gunman spoke.

"Shhhhh," the gunman told him in a hushed voice. As he continued, Danny heard his accent and his mind raced to place it. "Give me your gun."

He reached around Danny, sliding his hand over the top of Danny's hand and along the barrel of the gun. The action was unsettling to him, almost sensual, and it threw him completely off guard.

The gunman leaned in and whispered in Danny's ear, his lips so close they brushed the skin, startling Danny even more. "Don't die from stupidity like she did. Give me your gun."

Danny slowly relinquished it to the gunman.

"Now turn to face the door. Do nothing else."

Danny obeyed and the gunman stayed behind him. The man laid his hand on Danny's shoulder, running it down his arm as he softly ordered, "Stop. Don't make a sound."

A minute later, the police officers arrived. They immediately aimed at the gunman

"Drop it!" Officer Jacobs ordered.

"I think you have that order backwards," the gunman told him. "I'm the one that doesn't care if my hostage lives or dies."

Danny didn't prompt the officers to respond. He was more worried about Lindsay at the moment. Had this man really killed her?

The officers lowered their guns.

"Put them on the floor."

They obeyed.

"And now we're all going to the basement." The gunman pushed Danny's shoulder, moving him toward the men.

He and the officers silently complied.

* * *

Mac looked up as Agent Cusack strolled in and sat down uninvited.

"I saw a witness come in with an officer that responded to the alleged crime scene."

"Which officer would that be?"

"Detective Donald Flack."

"I never told you he responded to the scene."

Agent Cusack's plastic smile returned. "I never said you did."

Mac looked down at the file he had been reading. "What about the witness?"

"Can't find a translator for her, can you?"

Mac leaned on his desk, holding Agent Cusack's gaze. "And you just_happen_ to speak the witness's language."

"Yes."

Mac sat back. "You show me that jurisdiction order, and then we'll talk about you talking to her."

"Now, Detective Taylor, you and I know that could take twenty-four hours. In the mean time, that housemaid could be retaining key information to your investigation. The killer could be escaping as we speak while you're busy nursing your pride over an assumption I've insulted you."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Insulted me?"

"Do you feel insulted?"

Mac considered, for a moment, lying, but there was no advantage to lying. The truth, on the other hand…

"Ever since you walked through that door, you have done nothing _but_ insult me."

Cusack's smile vanished and silence followed. Neither looked up when Stella came into the office. She slowed to a stop, feeling the tension between the two.

"We got off on the wrong foot," Agent Cusack began. "Let's—"

"At this point, there isn't a right one. If anyone is withholding information that could be vital to this case, it's you. And that's why my CSI here is going to accompany you during the interview, and record it. Then, when we do locate an interpreter, we'll find out what you and this woman actually talked about. Not what lies you're going to tell me when you're done."

"Now you've insulted me."

"Stella, Agent Cusack will be performing the interview in my place. Do not leave him alone with the witness."

"I won't," Stella promised.

Agent Cusack stood. "I won't lie."

"No. Just tell me what's in the 'need to know' order. Get out of my office!"

He turned and left. Stella and Mac met eyes. She shrugged her eyebrows before following the agent out. Mac sat back, picking up his cell phone. He dialed a number and put it to his ear.

* * *

Danny watched the gunman from the chair the man had ordered him to stay in. The gunman stood by the window, watching the world outside. Danny looked at the guns on the bed – his and the two officer's, plus five shotguns, two assault rifles, a dozen automatic handguns, and ammunition. Danny wanted to kick himself. He'd bagged it and stacked the weapons in the foyer – at the time it seemed like a good idea, there were two police officers right outside, it wasn't like anyone from outside was going to take them. He hadn't counted on someone inside taking him hostage and ordering him to carry them all to a bedroom so he could lay siege on anyone that attempted to enter the room. Like Lindsay…

"Did you really kill her?" Danny asked.

The gunman didn't answer.

"Did you kill my partner? Is that her blood on the door?"

"It is her blood, and I don't miss."

Danny looked down, fighting with anger. If he got any opportunity, he might just kill this man. His phone started playing a tune as it rang. He didn't reach for it and looked up when his captor turned to him. The man strolled over and pressed the barrel of his gun against Danny's forehead.

"Answer it," the man ordered.

Danny obeyed. "Messner."

"Danny, why is Lindsay's phone off?" Mac asked. "It's going straight to voicemail."

"Is it your boss?" his captor asked.

"Yes," Danny answered him.

"Yes? What?" Mac asked.

The gunman reached down to take the phone but let his fingers brush against Danny's cheek. Danny pushed the phone into the man's hand to get his fingers off him, glaring at the gunman. The man lifted it to his ear, holding Danny's eyes while he spoke.

"Danny's boss?" the gunman asked.

"Who is this?"

"I'm Danny's captor. I want you to listen to me very closely, Danny's boss."

"I'm listening."

"If I see police, helicopters, media, so much as a shadow move outside, Danny, your employee, is going to practice flying from three stories onto concrete. And since I have a cache of prisoners in the basement, we can practice this a few times until you get it right. Do you comprehend my demands?"

Mac didn't answer.

"Danny's boss, I will count to five and then your employee will be dead. One—"

"I understand!" Mac snarled. "If you make it out of this alive, I will become your worst nightmare."

"I doubt that." The gunman snapped the phone closed, tossing it back to Danny.

He walked back to the window, leaning against the wall. The two were silent, only the gunman knowing what they were waiting for.

* * *

Lindsay's head felt like it had been split open with a pick ax. The pain went between her shoulder blades into her spine. At first all she could hear was deep silence, and then plastic rustling and bare feet on concrete padding toward her. The person stopped beside her and then something was pushed against her head, making the pain flare. She pulled away with a cry.

"Stop. Stop moving!" the person ordered, grabbing her shoulder. "I just got the bleeding stopped."

Lindsay opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. The world tilted and whirled out of control, making her stomach follow. She closed her eyes, reaching up to catch her head as she sat up. The person grabbed her hand away from the left side of her head.

"Who are you?" Lindsay asked.

"Ana. You don't remember me?"

Lindsay looked toward the voice. The world had slowed significantly and she was able to focus on the dark haired teenager.

"I don't remember how we got—" Lindsay tried to look around her and that sent the world into spiraling motions again. She closed her eyes. "Where are we?"

"The panic room," Anna answered. "I'm sorry you got shot. I thought he'd left. I'm really sorry, officer."

Lindsay opened her eyes, looking at Ana. The girl fidgeted with the edge of her bloodstained tank top, her face hidden by wild locks of black hair. Lindsay laid her hand on Ana's, getting the girl to look up at her.

"When I said I understood, earlier, I meant that, Ana. I was about your age when something just like this happened to me. And you didn't get me shot; you saved me by closing the door."

"He's holding another officer hostage."

Momentarily, Lindsay was speechless.

"How do you know that?"

Ana pointed across the panic room. "They're on the monitor."

Lindsay whipped her head around to look and immediately regretted it. The world spun and her ears filled with a numbing ring. She felt Anna's hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Lindsay couldn't answer.

"Officer? Are you okay?" Ana sounded terrified now.

Lindsay forced her mouth to work. She softly answered, "Help me up. Maybe— Maybe that will help."

Ana grabbed her arms and helped Lindsay onto her feet. Her legs felt like they would give out at any moment.

"Show me."

Ana navigated Lindsay around two couches and a coffee table.

"See?" Ana said.

Lindsay looked up at a wall of monitors showing video feeds from around the estate. She pulled away from Ana, focusing on the one showing the room right outside the door. Danny was sitting in a chair, staring at the floor, one leg bouncing. She knew his tell-tale signs of anger, and if the gunman standing at the window wasn't armed, he probably would have been waylaying on the man.

"I have to get out of here," Lindsay said, turning to Ana. The room went into a Tilt-A-Whirl.

She felt Ana grab her arm and guide her into a chair.

"Do you want some water?" Ana asked.

"I want out of here, Ana. I have to help him."

"How? You can't even stand on your own and you don't have a gun."

Lindsay slapped her hand against an empty holster before her eyes went up to Ana.

"Where's my gun?"

Ana didn't answer.

"Ana, where is my gun?"

"You don't need it in here."

"Ana, give me back my gun back."

Ana took two steps away from Lindsay.

"It is not a toy, Ana. Give it back to me."

Ana retreated further. Lindsay started to get up and the world spun faster. Without Ana there to support her, she sank to the floor, reaching for her head. Ana returned to her side, helping her back into the chair.

"You can't help him anymore than I could help… Them. We have enough supplies for four people for a year, but he won't wait for more than a few weeks."

"He'll kill Danny before then."

Ana didn't respond.

"Isn't there a phone in here?"

"It's dead."

Lindsay reached for her cell phone and was relieved to find it was still on her belt. She pulled it off, flicking it open, but the screen was blurry to her eyes. She held it out to Ana.

"Call—"

"Cell phones don't work in here."

Lindsay's hand sank to her lap. "You're joking."

"No. My Dad was going to have that fixed next year."

"Is this your family's house or are you one of the servant's daughter?"

"Servant."

The answer came too fast. Lindsay closed her eyes. Her headache was creeping back toward a new level of pain.

"Maybe you should lay down. You're getting really white," Ana suggested

Lindsay didn't respond or attempt to move. Between the pain and the situation, she felt helpless.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The recorded conversation between the witness and Cusack played from the recorder Stella held. Neither she nor Mac had any idea what the two were talking about. It ended and she clicked the stop button, looking across Mac's desk at him. He was staring at the ceiling with an expression that gave no insight about what he was thinking.

"We need a translator," Mac said. "And Cusack said all she said was that she was a cook and wasn't there when the murders happened?"

"Yeah. And if that's all that conversation was," Stella smirked, "Then I'm the Easter Bunny."

Mac looked into the hall at Agent Cusack. He was sitting on a bench, doing something on his Blackberry.

Stella stood, grabbing her coat from the back of her chair. "I'll go see if Danny and Lindsay have figured anything out. They've been gone long enough!"

Mac slowly looked up at her. "You can't."

Stella looked down at him. "Why?"

Mac glanced at his open door. Stella closed his door, and came back.

"Why?" she repeated.

"The gunman was in the house. He's holding Danny and two officers hostage and claims he killed Lindsay."

"What!?" Stella cried.

Agent Cusack looked at them. For once Mac wished he had blinds.

"Stella, we can't let this get out until we know exactly what we're dealing with. Especially to our friend out there in the hall."

"Have you told _anyone_?"

"Flack and the police chief. I've convinced the chief to hold off on action until we can find a translator for that tape. He has dispatched four unmarked cars to keep an eye on things, but even they don't know what's happening inside."

"What about S.W.A.T.? What about—"

"The gunman threatened to throw Danny off the roof if he saw anyone, even media. Right now, Stella, we're sitting. He hasn't made any demands and that worries me. He's waiting for something but I don't know what. And I don't know where Lindsay is."

Stella fell back into the chair, looking out at New York in the dark.

"You can't act strange around Agent Cusack, Stella. What he's not telling us, is the reason Danny and Lindsay are in this situation."

"And what if this guy has killed Lindsay?"

Mac looked at his desk. "He had better disappear for life because if I catch him, I might think he's armed."

The two looked at each other.

Both looked at the door when it opened. Flack came in followed by an elderly man and a police officer.

"Found a translator," Flack said, shutting the door behind him. He shot a dark glare at Agent Cusack before continuing. "This is Officer Vik. I was playing a sample of the witness's conversation to another translator and he said his grandfather, Mister Topeni here, speaks the language. So he brought him in to help."

Mac stood. "Thank you," Mac told Officer Vik. He walked around to the old man, motioning to a chair. "Mister Topeni, can I get you anything?"

"No," the man answered curtly as he settled into the chair. "Where is the person I need to talk to?"

"Actually, could you listen to a conversation she had with someone first? We need to know what they said."

The man nodded once. A firm, deep nod. Stella rewound the tape, pushed play, and handed it to the man. Mac moved back with Officer Vik and Flack.

"What language is it?" Mac asked the young man.

"Tongan."

"Is your grandfather from Tonga?"

"He and my father emigrated from there before I was born."

Mac looked down at the elder, considering the information.

"Isn't Tonga still a monarchy?" Mac asked.

"I think so. I don't really know much about the country myself. I barely know the language."

Mac nodded. He walked back to his desk chair and sat down, waiting while the man listened. The conversation ended and he handed Stella the recorder back.

"She went to dinner and a picture show with a male friend," the elder began. "She came home and when she parked the car she noticed that the other cars had flat tires. She went to the servant entrance and found the door was broken. The man asked how it was broken and she told him it was missing the door handle and stood open. She saw blood right away and went inside. She walked through the house and saw all those she worked with, and her sister, were all dead. There were many weapons so they must have made a stand. The man asked what she meant by a stand. She told him they were all trained to stand against any hostiles while the heirloom was moved to safety. He asked who trained them. She told him King Tuku'aho's general. She asks the man if he has told King Tuku'aho about what happened. He said he hasn't yet. Then she asks him if the attacker took King Tuku'aho's heirloom. He tells her that he doesn't know what's happened to it because the police haven't told him anything yet. Many times she tells the man he must find Amanakie. She wasn't with the dead so she must be alive. He tells her that they're trying to find her but there is a lot to figure out. She asks if the man that shot the others had the heirloom. He tells her that he doesn't believe so, no one has heard from the man and he hasn't asked for money for King Tuku'aho's heirloom. She starts crying and begs him to find Amanakie."

"Do you know who Amanakie is?" Mac asked.

"No," was the elder's quick answer.

"Are you sure? We—"

"I don't know who Amanakie is."

"What heirloom is she talking about?"

"Maybe cuff links; maybe the royal seal. I'm not King Tuku'aho. I don't know.""

Mac didn't believe the old man, but he also didn't want to offend him. Not until they could get an official translator. "Stella, why don't you take Mister Topeni and talk some more with the woman? See if she remembers anything else."

Stella nodded, standing. The elder didn't move. She turned and found him staring at her. 

"Is there a problem?" Mac asked.

"Interrogators are men."

"We aren't interrogating anyone," his grandson said, walking up to the elder. "This is a conversation. Detective Bonasera will advise you what she needs to know, and you'll chat with the woman like you do with grandma. Okay?"

The man nodded once and stood. The three left, passing Agent Cusack. He watched them pass. When they turned a corner, glanced at Mac before he followed them. Mac looked at Flack, finding the detective watching him.

"Cusack doesn't know about the situation, I take it?"

"No. We can't afford for this to get out of hand. I finally got a hold of Sheldon. He had left for his vacation after his shift and was already in Pennsylvania when I spoke to him. He's coming back, but won't be back for another three hours. I was wondering if I could ask you to track down the homeowner. Do you mind?"

"I'm already working on it, Mac, but I think Agent Cusack may have thrown some oil on the fire. I'm having a helluva a time finding anything."

"Thank you."

"They're my friends too."

Mac offered a smile that Flack returned before leaving. Mac looked down at his cell phone sitting on his desk, contemplating calling Danny. He decided he'd wait until he had something to tell him, or his captor.

* * *

Danny shifted in his chair, uncomfortable from sitting for so long. The radio clock beside the bed told him he'd been there for four hours.

"What are we even doing here, man?" Danny asked, looking up at the gunman.

The man was folding it into an origami figure. He had a supply of paper squares in his back pocket, and lying at his feet lay several swans, frogs, and a flower. Folding origami wasn't something Danny expected from a man that had just killed sixteen people. 

"You really like that origami, don'cha?" Danny asked.

"I will see my daughter soon. They're for her."

"You have a kid?"

He smiled, looking at the half folded origami in his hand. "This is my last job. After this, I'll take her somewhere no one will ever find us."

"Your kid know you kill people for a living, too?"

The gunman looked at him. Danny could see he'd hit a very sore spot, maybe even the one that would get him killed. He didn't care. He hated this man and his dreams of retiring with his daughter didn't melt Danny's heart.

"Don't talk about my daughter, Danny," the gunman's said with a warning tone.

Danny changed the subject. "Why're we just sitting here?"

The gunman glanced at him. "Why are you concerned?"

"I want to know what my partner died for; what _I'm_ going to die for."

The gunman made a crease along the paper. "Something valuable."

Danny looked around the bedroom at the jewelry sitting on the dresser. There was a wallet that was full of bills.

"More valuable than what would have been easy to grab and run with?"

"Yes."

Danny looked at him. "And this more valuable thing… Where is it?"

"In the panic room."

Danny glanced at the door, then back at the man. "How do you plan on getting in the panic room? That looks like a biometric scanner and since we're out here, I'm guessing your prints aren't scanned into it."

"The girl will open the door."

"What girl?"

"The teenager inside."

Danny looked at the door, then him. There was someone alive still?

"And why would she open it? That dome probably covers a camera. She can see you're out here."

"She can't stay in there with a dead body forever. Imagine the smell in a week!"

Danny's blood boiled. "That's where Lindsay is?"

"She isn't Lindsay any more, is she? She's just meat and bones now."

"You bastard!" Danny snarled.

The gunman smiled, looking away to fold another crease.

"What the hell is so important she had to die for it!?"

The man sighed, pulled his gun from his belt and shot Danny in the leg. Danny cried out, falling forward out of the chair. He held the spot, gritting his teeth. He looked up when a shadow fell over him, staring into the gunman's impassionate eyes.

"I don't want to talk to you. Understand?"

Through his teeth Danny growled, "Yes!"

* * *

Lindsay watched Danny fall from the chair to the floor. Blood quickly darkened his jeans around the bullet wound. The gunman came into view. He said something, and then returned to his post beside the window. He slid his gun back into his belt and resumed folding origami.

Danny closed his eyes, clenching his hands over the top of his leg. He grabbed a tie sitting on the chest in front of him and tied it around the wound before he crawled back into the chair.

Lindsay turned. Ana was curled into a chair, staring blankly at the floor. Lindsay got up and walked over to her. The world still spun a little, but at least she could cope with it now. She crouched down, laying her hands on Ana's arms.

"Ana, please give me back my gun and unlock the door for me," Lindsay softly begged.

"No."

"Ana, I have—"

"NO!" Ana screamed at her, pushing further into the chair to get away from her.

Lindsay sighed, looking down. She pulled her phone off her belt and flicked it open, staring at the face. It was broken – again – so she didn't know if it could get a signal or not. She had to stop breaking phones. Soon Mac might stop believing she was just accident prone with them.

"I told you it wouldn't work in here," Ana quietly told her.

"It was worth another try, but mine's broken so it doesn't matter anyway." Lindsay stood and turned, staring at the monitor.

"You and that policeman must be close," Ana commented.

"We're criminalists, not police officers, and yes, we're best friends."

"BBF?" Ana asked.

Lindsay smiled, turning. Her smile brightened to find Ana holding out her cell phone to her. Lindsay realized the teenager really didn't want to let the killer get away, but she was so scared that she wasn't going to risk opening the door again.

"Yeah. BBF. I can use it?"

Ana nodded. "If you can figure out how to get a signal."

Lindsay took the phone. "Thank you, Ana."

Ana nodded again.

Lindsay tapped a button to wake up the phone and looked around her. She turned to the door to orient herself, and then walked to a wall that she guessed was an outside wall. Slowly she walked along the wall, into the bathroom off it to the far wall, out of the bathroom, along the wall, and toward the kitchenette. She stopped and turned back. One bar jumped up on the phone. She walked toward the corner she faced and two bars popped up. She was pressed into the corner, with her nose practically to the wall, when a third bar popped up.

"I have signal!" Lindsay cried.

Ana was immediately at her side. Lindsay dialed Mac's number, smiling when Ana wrapped her arm tight around Lindsay's.

"Pick up, Mac. Pick up," Lindsay wished out loud.

* * *

Mac was on the phone with the police chief when Flack burst into Mac's office with two rolled up tubes of papers. 

"You are not going to believe our luck!" Flack told him

Cusack was sitting on a bench in the hall. He got up and strolled toward Mac's office. Mac decided to ignore the agent for now, focusing on what had Flack excited.

"I'll call you back, sir," Mac told him and hung up.

Cusack stopped inside the door, leaning against the frame.

Flack rolled out one of the tubes. "Okay, I couldn't get the name of the current owner. I'm sure Special Agent Cusack had something to do with that. But he missed a few things in city planning; like my girlfriend."

Mac smiled, glancing at Cusack. The man didn't show any anger or amusement at the comment.

"This is the city planning map of the five mile area this house is in. Right here is a small National Park preserve sandwiched right in the center of all this private property." Flack circled the area of the preserve with his finger. "And here's 14283 Rhianna Drive." He stabbed his finger against the section to the south of the preserve.

Mac's cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen but didn't recognize the number so he sat it aside.

Flack leaned on Mac's desk, looking him in the eye. "The house was built in the mid 30's and had a lot of renovations since then. But the one that's our advantage…" Flack unrolled the second tube, showing building plans for the house. He smacked his finger down in the middle of the house were two parallel lines of dashes began, and then ran his finger down them to the end where the building plans of a what could be mistaken for a cottage, except that the outer wall was also dashed lines. The building was located several hundred feet from the house. "A bomb shelter built during the Cold War, and now it's located on the preserve, hidden by trees, and the guy's view. The entrance into the house is in the basement. If this guy is in the room with the panic room, we can assume that's at least on the first floor and—"

"Second floor," Cusack told him. "He'll never hear you coming _if_ the tunnel door hasn't been sealed."

Flack turned, staring at him. He didn't even try to hide how much he hated this guy when he snarled, "Is it sealed?"

Mac's phone started ringing again. It was the same unknown phone number. He sat it aside, noticing Cusack was pushing in his earpiece, listening to something. He gave a short nod and then dropped his hand.

"I don't know. As you pointed out, Detective Flack, I missed a few things. Like your girlfriend."

"We'll go in on the property two houses over," Mac told him. "Get us a warrant to get on the property. I'll have to arrange some equipment and S.W.A.T. Does your girlfriend happen to know anyone that could help us locate the entrance? By now it's probably grown over."

"I'll see what she can do." Flack grabbed the map and blueprints and hurried out.

Mac laid his hand on the phone when it started ringing again, but he didn't answer it. "Thank you for the information about the panic room."

"It wasn't need to know." Cusack turned to leave.

"You don't need to be present at the bomb shelter?"

Cusack looked back at him. "I have to go meet someone. You should answer your cell phone. It's the teenager's phone number." Cusack walked out.

Mac answered his phone. "Mac Taylor."

"MAC!" Lindsay cried, forcing him to pull the phone away a little. "We're in trouble here. We—"

"Lindsay, where are you?"

"14283 Rhianna Drive. A man's holding Danny hostage. I'm trapped in the panic room with a teenager that lives here. As far as I can tell, it's just this one guy. He shot Danny."

"Are you two okay?"

He looked up when Stella came in. She stopped at the edge of his desk.

"We're fine. Mac, Danny—"

"Is he alive?"

"He looks okay, but I really can't tell."

Mac relaxed a little. "So you can see where they are?"

"Yeah. This room has a bank of monitors and one is a feed from a camera in the bedroom outside the door. I have to get out of this room. I have—"

"No. No, Lindsay. I want you to stay in there with that girl. What's her name?"

"Ana."

"Does she know who Amanakie is?"

Lindsay asked the girl, "Do you know who Amanakie is?"

Mac couldn't hear the answer.

"Ana, don't lie to me. Do you know who Amanakie is?"

"No!" Ana snapped.

To Mac, Lindsay said, "She says no."

"You don't believe her?"

"No."

"I need a description of the guy." Mac turned and hunted down paper and a pen.

* * *

Lindsay looked across the room at the monitors. She couldn't see them from where she stood. She looked at Ana standing next to her. The girl was holding her arms, staring at the floor. Questioning her about Amanakie had sent her into a teenage pout.

"Ana, I need your help."

Ana looked up at her. There was defiance in those eyes.

Lindsay closed her eyes when the room started spinning suddenly. She continued, "I need you to stand here in this corner. I'm going to go over to the monitor and describe the gunman to you. You—"

"Why not just take a picture with my phone and send it to them?" Ana asked.

Mac's soft chuckle made her smile. "That is a better idea. Mac, I have to hang up with you so we can get some pictures."

The room began spinning faster. Lindsay braced herself against the wall.

"Are you okay?" Ana asked at the same time Mac said, "Okay. I'll call you back in a half hour."

"You can't. We can only use it in this one corner. I'll call you back in, ah…"

The room was spinning out of control and light was quickly fading away.

"Lindsay?" Mac asked.

"I…"

Lindsay collapsed. Ana dropped to her knees beside her, grabbing Lindsay's shoulder.

"Lindsay?" She shook her shoulder.

She grabbed the phone and found the call had dropped. She moved into the corner and dialed Mac's number.

"Lindsay?" Mac asked.

"She passed out," Ana said.

"Is she hurt?"

"She was shot in the head. It keeps bleeding."

"Is there a bandage over the wound?"

"Yeah, but it's bloody. Should I put a new one on?"

"Yes, but put it on over the old one. Do not pull the old one off, okay? And once you have that under control, I want you to go take those pictures and send them to me. Can you do all that, Ana?"

"Yes."

"We'll have you out soon. You'll be fine."

Ana looked across at the monitors. "I know. He's done this before."

"He has? Has he ever hurt you when he's done this?"

"No."

"That's a good thing. Go help Lindsay, okay?"

"Okay."

Ana moved an inch and the call dropped. She looked at the screen for a moment. She sat it on a counter and ran to the bathroom.

* * *

Mac looked at his phone when the call dropped.

"Was that Lindsay?" Stella asked.

"She started the call, then she fainted. The teenager with her, Ana, said she was shot in the head."

"If she's fainting, then it could be—"

"It could be a lot of things and some of them aren't life threatening." Mac looked up at Stella. "We have to believe that for now, okay?"

She nodded. "Hawkes is here. What do you want him to start with?"

Mac looked when his phone alerted him to an incoming message. "Tell him I'm sending some photos to his email. They're pictures of the shooter. I want to know who this guy is."

"I'll go let him know. I've picked up searching for the homeowner."

"Thank you,"

Stella left his office. Mac retrieved the message, staring at the small image of the man. And in the corner, Danny. He was reclined back in the chair, with his leg held out.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hawkes pulled photos of the killer into software to clean them up. Stella walked up behind him, watching the screen.

"Danny looks like he's holding up," Stella said.

"I guess. Hard to tell in these. The teenager took good shots of the gunman though."

Hawkes pulled the cleaned up photos into face recognition software and started it searching. He turned to another computer and began closing other photos.

"What are those?" Stella asked.

Hawkes smiled. "Ana sent them by accident. Just a bunch of high schools kids."

"Stop." Stella said, grabbing his arm. "Open the last one."

Hawkes pulled up the last picture. Stella pointed at the dark haired and dark skinned teenager among the other Caucasian teenagers.

"Is that Ana?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"I've seen her somewhere. Run her photo too."

"You think she's involved?"

"I don't know, but I know I've seen her someplace, and seeing how we have the Secret Service involved, I'm going to bet she's the key to all of this. They protect children to the age of sixteen."

"But only president's and vice-president's children."

"There's always an exception." She pulled her cell phone out of the holster clipped to her jeans when it started ringing. She glanced at the screen before answering, "Hey Mac."

"Come to my office."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. Cusack is bringing someone to my office."

"Be right there."

Stella hung up. "Let me know what you find." She stopped at the door. "Hey Sheldon."

He looked at her.

"Thanks for coming back from vacation."

He smiled. "They need all the help they can get, right?"

She tapped her phone against the door frame, smiling. "Yeah. Thank you." Stella hurried out of the lab.

* * *

Cusack and a dignified man entered Mac's office. The man was dressed in an expensive suit of wool and silk, and his shoes shined like mirrors. He had black hair and dark skin.

Agent Cusack introduced the man as, "Ambassador Nasili of Tonga. He owns 14283 Rhianna Drive."

"I am told that there is a gunman holding a hostage in my home," Ambassador Nasili said.

Mac hesitated. Stella looked from Mac to Cusack.

"You're monitoring my calls?" Mac asked Cusack.

"We're the Secret Service. We don't monitor calls."

"But the CIA does, don't they?"

"We have the authority to pull whatever resources we deem necessary in certain situations, such as this."

Mac resisted going off on the man about invasion of privacy, his lack of a court order – still – and that he was only hindering them getting anyone out alive by withholding information. Instead he asked, "Do either of you know what this man wants?"

"He's after a royal heirloom," Ambassador Nasili replied. "He believes it belongs to him and has attempted to steal it before."

"The King of Tonga sent a royal heirloom to America? Why?"

"He felt it was safer for it to be kept out of the country."

"In a panic room?"

"Yes."

Mac's anger flared. "A teenage girl and my CSI are in that panic room. Are you telling me this teenager is protecting an heirloom that could be replaced?"

The Ambassador didn't answer.

"Is this heirloom worth lives?"

"Yes," the Ambassador answered matter-of-factly.

Mac shook his head.

"It is not your country that this child protects, it is ours," Ambassador Nasili reproved, "and I did not come here to argue politics with you. I am told you are in contact with the terrorist. I wish you to contact him again. Tell him that his Royal Highness King Tuku'aho is willing to offer anything he desires for the safe release of his hostages."

"Did he take anything your King offered the last time he did this?"

Neither answered him.

"Did or didn't he?"

"We are willing to pay for the release of your investigator and officers, Detective Taylor. Please, call him," Ambassador Nasili urged.

They would pay to get everyone out of there? There was probably a price for this generosity but he was more concerned about the two policemen, Danny and Lindsay, and the teenager caught in the middle of politics. Mac tapped the speaker button on his phone and dialed Danny's cell phone.

* * *

Danny didn't move when his phone started playing a tune. The gunman walked over to him.

"Answer it."

Danny just looked at him. The gunman aimed his gun at Danny's head.

"Answer it."

Danny pulled his phone from the holster and held it out to the gunman. "It's for you."

The gunman smiled. "Put it on speaker."

Danny flicked it open and put it on speaker.

"Yes?" the gunman asked.

"Where's Danny?" Mac asked.

"I'm here," Danny answered.

"I have Ambassador Nasili here. He would like to negotiate—"

The gunman laughed. "Really? Is he there to offer me anything I want for the release of the hostages?"

"I am," the Ambassador said.

"Sorry, Danny's boss, but there is nothing that man could offer that I want. He knows damned well what I want. And this time, Nasili, your King is going to have to negotiate with the Americans since they want their officers alive."

"I can give you anything you want. Anything. What you are trying to take, you will never get," the Ambassador told him.

"There isn't anything on this planet you could offer me in her place!"

Danny looked up at the gunman, catching the dropped word. The gunman held Danny's eyes for a moment, and then walked back to the window. The man could see the street almost a quarter mile from the house. It was lined with police cars and a couple ambulances and fire trucks on the street. They were all keeping their distance just like he ordered.

"Surely there is something we can offer," Nasili said.

The gunman didn't answer.

"I think he's done talking," Danny said. "Mac?"

"Hang in there, okay, Danny? You'll be seeing Montana soon."

Danny's breath caught and he almost smiled. "I will, huh?"

"Yep. Still a pretty wild state."

"Thanks, Mac. I needed to hear that."

"Let us know if he changes his mind on the Ambassador's offer."

"You'll be the first I call." Danny hung up the phone, putting it back in the holster.

"You want to visit Montana?" the gunman asked.

"Yeah. I want to see Montana again." Danny smiled at the secret the word held.

"Too remote for me."

The gunman had lied. He never shot Lindsay and she was somewhere safe. That lifted some weight off his mind.

* * *

Lindsay opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. She blinked, swallowed, and remembered where she was and why her head hurt so much.

"I don't know. She's still out," she heard Ana said.

"Ana?" Lindsay said.

"Lindsay?" Ana called.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Who are you? Stella. She answered the phone number you called before. Are you okay?"

"I… I really don't know. Did you send the photographs?"

"Yeah. She said they had some software look at them, but couldn't find out who he was."

"Great," Lindsay said.

She rolled over on her side, pushing the blanket covering her off. She grabbed the edge of the counter and pulled herself onto her feet. She moved around to a stool and sat down on it, laying her head on the counter. 

"You're really white, Lindsay."

"Blood loss," Lindsay.

"Blood loss? What does that…" To the phone Ana said. "Oh. Stella says you should probably sit down and not try to move much. She said there might be head trauma."

"She's probably right."

Lindsay looked toward the phone signal corner. Ana had changed into jeans and a T-shirt since Lindsay passed out.

"Don't use up the battery, hon. We may still need it."

"She told me to hang up, Stella. We'll call back soon. Bye." Ana hung up and walked over to Lindsay. "Do you want some water?"

"No. I want my gun back."

"Maybe later."

"Ana…" Lindsay sighed. Her head hurt too much for her to press the issue. "So they didn't get anything on the photos?"

Ana shook her head. "No."

Lindsay lifted her head. An idea was forming. "Ana… Did that man touch you or something you brought in here?"

Ana started to shake her head, but stopped abruptly. She ran into one of the rooms and returned with a metal case.

"He had this when they caught him. They got it away from him before…" She sat it down on the counter, staring at it.

Lindsay reached out, rubbing the girl's arm. "Okay. Did I still have a jar of black dust and a brush when I fell in here?"

Ana shook her head.

Lindsay looked at the case, thinking. "Do you have any paint brushes or something like that in here? And I'm going to need clear tape, some sturdy white paper, and a pair of scissors."

"Be right back," Ana told her as she hurried off on a scavenger hunt.

Lindsay got up and started through the kitchen cupboards. She pulled out a can of instant hot cocoa mix. She opened the container, pinched some of it, and let it drift from her fingers. It wasn't as fine as she'd prefer, but it would have to do. She hunted down a roll of tin foil and walked back to the case. Lindsay carefully covered one side of the case to preserve the fingerprints on it for processing later. She stood up straight and the room started spinning. Lindsay sat down on the stool, putting her head in her hands.

"Are you okay?" Ana asked.

She looked up into the girl's concerned face. She smiled, looking at the supplies Ana had come back with. She pulled the large blush brush from Ana's hand.

"Is there blush to go with this?"

"No. I'm not even sure why that was in here. This is a panic room, after all."

Lindsay didn't offer her opinion on the matter. "Help me tape this tinfoil on the case and don't touch the case."

The two wrestled the case around until they had the foil taped down. Lindsay opened the container of hot cocoa. She picked up the brush and patted it on her hand, watching blush shake loose.

"Go wash this out and then pat it on a towel until no more water comes out." Lindsay handed it back to Ana.

Ana trotted around to the sink and rinsed the brush. She grabbed a handful of paper towels and patted the brush until no more water came out. She came back to Lindsay's side.

"Cut pieces of paper as long as your longest finger and wider than your thumb.

Ana started cutting the paper. Lindsay picked up the cocoa container and brush, and began dabbing the cocoa onto the metal case. Fingerprints revealed themselves under the dust. Lindsay laid the case on the protected side. She picked up the tape and tore off a piece. Carefully she lifted a fingerprint and firmly attached the tape to a piece of paper.

"As I put these on paper, start taking pictures of them. Get the best photograph you can."

Ana stopped cutting and picked up her phone. They had a couple dozen when the room began spinning out of control around Lindsay.

"Call Mac and tell him you're sending the photos. I…" Lindsay grabbed the edge of the counter.

Ana took her arm and led her over to the couch. Lindsay laid down, watching the ceiling slowly stop twirling. She closed her eyes, feeling weak and tired all of a sudden.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Lindsay didn't answer.

"Your bandage is bloody again. Is it supposed to bleed so much?"

"No," Lindsay whispered as she faded into sleep.

"Lindsay?" Ana questioned.

"What?" Lindsay whispered.

Ana didn't continue. She reached down, laying a hand on Lindsay's forehead. She turned and went back into the corner, dialing Mac's phone number.

"Ana?" Stella's voice said.

"Lindsay had me take pictures of fingerprints. She told me to call before I sent them."

"She had her kit with her?"

"No. We used a makeup brush and hot chocolate."

Stella's warm chuckle didn't make Ana smile. "You two are very bright, Ana. Can I talk to Lindsay?"

"I think she passed out." Ana looked at Lindsay. "She doesn't have any color. Her lips are blue. And her skin is cold."

"Send me the fingerprint photos, Ana. When you're done, put some pillows under her feet, and cover her with a blanket."

"Are you guys coming soon?"

* * *

Stella had her finger pushed into her ear so she could hear Ana over the jackhammers, welders, and backhoe. She stood back with Mac and Flack, waiting for city workers to break through the bomb shelter door. It was made to withstand a nuclear blast and proving it could withstand people too. Stella walked over to a foreman.

"How much longer before you're through?" she asked him.

"Another hour, maybe."

"Did you hear that Ana?"

"Yeah. Hurry. Please hurry. She's not doing good, Stella."

"We'll get to you as fast as we can. You'll take care of her until we get there, won't you?"

"I promise."

Stella turned when Mac walked up to her.

"Thank you. I'm hanging up now. Send me the photographs."

"Okay."

The call disconnected and right away pictures of fingerprints started coming through.

"What's going on?" Mac asked, watching Stella work cell phone buttons.

"Lindsay's went into shock. But before that, she was able to print something and get photos. I'm forwarding them to Sheldon."

Mac looked at the workers. He wouldn't tell them to hurry, not like he wanted to, but Stella could read him.

"They're working as fast as they can, Mac."

He nodded. "I know."

* * *

Hawkes was engrossed in the online news article he was reading and didn't hear the APHIS computer beep. He glanced back, and then rolled across the room to it. He pulled up the information and yanked his cell phone from the holster on his belt.

"Stella, I have a hit on the man's prints, and the girl's."

"Just a second. Let me get Mac."

* * *

The door to the bomb shelter lay on the ground, revealing a comfortable, stylish '70's bomb shelter inside. Mac listened to the S.W.A.T. lead assign routes that his men, Flack and six other officers would take once they were inside the home. Mac looked across the people at Agent Cusack. He had strolled onto the scene twenty minutes before they broke through the bomb shelter door. He didn't say anything to Mac, or anyone else. He just leaned against a tree and silently watched. What was he waiting for?

"Mac," Stella said, coming up on Mac's opposite side. "Sheldon got a hit on the prints." Stella hit the speakerphone button and held it up. "Go ahead, Sheldon."

"The man has been charged with assassination and treason in several states, Russia, and Tonga. He's supposedly dead, too."

"A dead man, huh?" Mac glanced over at Cusack. "Why am I not surprised?"

The agent had his earpiece pushed in. Was he listening in on their conversation or to someone else?

"And get this, Ana is the daughter of King Tuku'aho, and apparently this gunman has tried to kidnap her five times before today. All the articles I've read never cited a reason why."

"Of course!" Stella said, looking at Mac. "She's Princess Amanakie. She was accepted to Yale and came to America to finish high school here. It was in all the papers last year."

"I remember that," Mac said, looking at the tunnel.

"But why her?" Hawkes said. "Why does this guy keep trying to kidnap just her?"

Mac glanced at Cusack. He was staring at Mac.

"You know, don't you?" Stella asked Mac.

"I have a theory."

"What is it?" Hawkes asked.

Mac looked up when four S.W.A.T. came out with the two kidnapped officers. The officers had been stripped to their underwear and t-shirts. Medics guided them away, offering them blankets.

One of the S.W.A.T. called out to the leader, "Clear. We can move in now."

"We gotta go, Hawkes," Stella told him

"I'll meet you at the E.R."

Stella hung up and for the moment, Mac's theory was forgotten. Flack disappeared into the bomb shelter with S.W.A.T. Mac couldn't stay behind.

"Stella, they'll be taking Danny out the front. Go around and wait with the paramedics for him."

"Where are you going?"

Mac looked her in the eyes. "To get my CSI out of there." Mac followed S.W.A.T. into the bomb shelter.

* * *

Danny dozed, always aware of the gunman at the window. At first he was able to keep his mind focused on work, but slowly, as the early hours of morning crawled along, his thoughts became more disjointed. At one point he woke up and thought he was back in his parent's house and was waking up in his old bedroom. But seeing the silent, lethal sentry at the window quickly chased of the dream.

Something scratched on the floorboard in the hall. He'd been hearing it for a while. Soft scratching like the rats that used to climb under the floorboards of his first apartment. They had been huge rodents, as long as his hand from nose to the base of the tail, and long tails covered with short, clear hairs. The gunman glanced over his shoulder, but he didn't move to investigate.

Danny's eyes started to droop just as something flashed across his peripheral vision. He looked up, shaking off the sleep, and stared Flack in the eyes. The detective stood outside of the light, pressed against the wall, and leaning out just far enough so only Danny could see him. He motioned to Danny: Did Danny see him?

Danny yawned, bobbing his head. He glanced at the gunman before looking back at Flack. Flack motioned to him: He would count to three on his hand, and Danny was to hit the floor.

Danny looked away, nodding. He adjusted his wounded leg so he could spring from the chair, and put both hands on either side of the injury to brace himself when he lunged.

The gunman glanced at him. He pulled another square of paper from his back pocket and began folding it. In the corner of his eye, Danny saw Flack look around the door frame at the gunman. He was signaling to someone out of Danny's sight to get ready. He looked Danny in the eye and gave one solid nod. Danny returned it: He was ready.

Flack held up three fingers and counted down. Danny dropped to the floor as Flack curled his last finger. The gunman turned, drawing his pistol.

"FREEZE!" Flack yelled as he and seven S.W.A.T. swarmed into the room. 

Flack moved between Danny and the gunman before the gunman could aim at Danny. Guns clicked as the police aimed at the gunman and he aimed back. He may have been outnumbered, but he wasn't giving up easily.

One S.W.A.T. member grabbed Danny by the back of the shirt and helped him crawl out into the hall. Danny pressed against the wall by the door, watching the gunman through legs and bodies.

"Put weapon down on the floor and your hands up," Flack ordered.

The man didn't obey. Danny saw a red dot from a rifle sight bounce along the gunman's shoulder. Four more lit up in the same spot. The gunman didn't stand a chance.

"Danny," he heard Mac say and looked back, watching his boss crouch down next to him. Two policemen followed behind him. "There's an ambulance waiting. Go with these two."

Danny turned his head, looking back at the man. "Where's Lindsay? You said she was okay."

"She's in the panic room. Now get out of here."

Danny looked at the panic room door.

"You can't help us with a bum leg, Danny. Get out of here."

Danny looked back at Mac.

"You know I'll take care of her," Mac assured him. "Go."

Danny held an arm out to the officers. They helped Danny onto his feet and hurried down the hall with him. Mac pressed against the wall outside the door, watching the stand off.

The gunman saw a red dot on the wall and glanced out the window. There were a dozen more S.W.A.T. waiting outside. He looked down at the origami at his feet and then up at the faces surrounding him. He fired as he charged S.W.A.T. and Flack, forcing them to open fire on him. The bullets spun him around before he fell to the floor, crushing the origami under his body.

Mac walked in, watching S.W.A.T. surround the gunman while one checked for a pulse.

"He's gone."

"Clear!" Flack called out.

"Cover him up," Mac ordered. "I don't want a teenager seeing that. Someone call the medics up here"

One of them grabbed the comforter from the bed and threw it over the dead man.

Mac looked up at the tinted dome over the door. He pulled his badge off and waived it at the dome. He heard the door click open and Ana pushed it open.

Ana grabbed his wrist with both hands, pulling him into the room with her. And he didn't resist.

* * *

"Lindsay."

Mac's voice was somewhere at the end of the black tunnel.

"Lindsay, wake up."

It was closer now. She was following his voice back to him.

"Lindsay," Mac said right next to her ear. She heard his worry and concern. More importantly, that he was at her side.

Lindsay opened her eyes, looking into his eyes, and offered a weak smile. He smiled back.

"Hey, there." Mac said.

Two paramedics came around the end of the couch, one pulling gurney.

"That for me?" she asked.

"Yeah. They're going to take you to the hospital to get your oil changed."

She chuckled softly and that made him smile a little more. A paramedic came to the top of the couch and pressed his fingers against her neck, watching the hands on his watch. The other grabbed Lindsay's hand and prepped it to insert an I.V. of saline and blood.

"Where's Danny?"

"On his way to the hospital. You two are killing me with this medical leave, know that? I think you two planned it."

She chuckled again.

"We have to move her now," the paramedic told Mac.

Mac stood and moved out of the way.

"Where's Ana?" Lindsay asked.

"In the bedroom."

Lindsay let the paramedics help her sit up and move over to the gurney. They strapped her on and rolled out of the panic room. They came out of the panic room and Ana was immediately at her side, holding her hand as she followed alongside. Lindsay smiled at her, squeezing her hand. They came to the steps as Ambassador Nasili reached the top.

"Princes Amanakie, we have a car to take—"

"I'm going to the hospital with my friend," Ana told him as she passed.

"Princess Ama—"

"End of story," Ana shot back at him.

The group passed Agent Cusack coming up the stairs. He stopped and turned, watching them go through the front door.

"When are you or he going to tell Princess Amanakie?"

Agent Cusack looked up. Mac stopped on same step as Agent Cusack, leaning against the hand rail. He looked sidelong at the man

"Tell her what?" Agent Cusack asked.

"The gunman really was her biological father and all these attempts to kidnap her, was because he wanted her back. That would make her illegitimate, wouldn't it? Probably not even a real heir to the throne."

Agent Cusack stared at him for a long minute before starting down the stairs.

"The girl deserves to know what really happened tonight," Mac told him.

Agent Cusack spun and walked up to Mac, leaning in close. Quietly he threatened, "If you choose to tell anyone, you will be fired and find it difficult getting a job at a fast food restaurant. You will not be able to travel on an airplane, boat, train, ever again. You will never have another credit card. Renting will become a problem. Your driver's license will be revoked. Do we understand one another?"

"Thank you, Special Agent Cusack."

"For what?"

"Confirming my theory about what was really going on tonight. You wanted us to stop him, for good, because you know if he shot at a New York police officer, they'd shoot to kill. You and those you're protecting wanted us to cover this up so she and the people of Tonga would never find out the truth. Better to live believing she's the King's daughter, than to learn her real father was an assassin."

Agent Cusack backed down two steps with a real smile.

"If you ever decide to leave the New York Police, Detective Taylor, call me. You would fit in well with my team." Agent Cusack turned and trotted down the stairs.

Mac told the empty staircase, "Not a chance."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Lindsay opened her eyes, staring at her hand lying in sunlight that had snuck through the blinds. She recognized the room as a hospital room. Usually when she was in one, she was talking to a victim, not the victim herself. She looked at Danny, asleep in the recliner across the room, and smiled. He told her didn't dream, and she believed that as peaceful as he looked when he slept. Lindsay heard someone come into the room and looked over her shoulder. The nurse smiled, gently picking up Lindsay's wrist.

"Good morning," the nurse said to her.

"What time is it?"

"A little after nine. You look better today. There's color in your face."

"How long have I been here?"

"Two days." The nurse pulled a notepad from her pocket, jotting on it. She pulled a blood pressure cuff from the basket on the wall and wrapped it around Lindsay's upper arm.

"Hey there, Montana," Danny said.

She turned her head, smiling at him. He leaned over, laying his hand on her forehead. She closed her eyes, moving her head up to press her forehead firmly against his hand.

"Tired still?" he asked.

"Yeah," she answered.

The nurse finished with her blood pressure and checked her temperature.

"You're doing good, Lindsay," she told her. "We'll have you out of here in no time."

"Good," Lindsay said.

The nurse patted her arm and walked over to a terminal near the door. She entered in information and left. Danny slowly slid onto the bed next to Lindsay. She curled her body against his, sliding into his hold. He kissed her forehead.

"I love you," he told her.

She grinned, telling him "Liar."

"I swear on my mother's eyes."

"She's going to go blind now."

He chuckled warmly, brushing hair back from her face. "I love you."

She nuzzled her face against his neck. "I love you, too," she murmured.

Lindsay moved her head to his chest. He was warm and comforting.

"How's your leg?" she asked him.

"Hurts, but nothin' to worry about."

She sighed softly, looking up at him. "You still owe me fries."

Danny laughed, making her smile. "Oh! Woman! Would your forget about the fries!"

She smiled, kissing his throat. "With cheese and chili."

"Now that's not fair. Yours didn't have chili and cheese."

"Interest." She kissed his neck.

He nuzzled her hair, smiling. "Okay. I'll go get it later."

She laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. Sleep wasn't that far off for either of them.

"Stay here until I wake up," Lindsay whispered.

Danny murmured, "I swear," as they both drifted to sleep.

An hour later, that was how Mac found them when he came in to visit. He stopped at the foot of the bed, watching them sleep. Suspicion of their relationship had always been in the back of his mind, but neither had shown signs of it on the job. Their careful cover up made it easy for him to look the other way. Besides, he knew love didn't care what someone in HR had written about interoffice relationships between officers of the same department. Mac sat the vase of flowers he brought on the bedside table and left just as silently as he'd come.

* * *

_For Skylar87 ;-)_


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